The Worst Day
by Flying Banana Dinosaur
Summary: The battle for her home city has been won, but it really has been an awful day. To top it all off, now Lilina has to see the evidence of Princess Guinevere's friendship with Roy, when he won't even talk to her. Or maybe she's just taking everything wrong, and the night isn't as bad as it seems.


This is all over the place, and there are probably a lot of tense errors.

* * *

This was the first time Lilina had seen him like that. He'd been her dearest friend for what felt like ages, but she _still felt_ nervous as she stood there in the doorway and listened to their murmuring voices, _still felt_ like an outsider. She didn't deserve to know the extent of the damage from today's catastrophe, or something, or she would have been allowed to enter. The anxiety she had experienced during the battle had melted away hours before, but her stomach was in knots and there was some kind of pressure building in her forehead. The sensation reminded her of how nervous she had been when Miss Cecilia had issued her first test, and she'd worked herself up so badly that she'd had to return to her bedchamber. _"It's okay,"_Cecilia had said. _"You can show me what you've learned tomorrow, when you're not vomiting."_

Vomiting sounded like a good idea. It was never pleasant, but sometimes things turned out better the less she resisted. If she were going to spend the rest of the night hugging a basin with her attendants fretting at her bedside, maybe she should resign herself to it. But that would have to wait until she knew just what was happening and saw him with her own two eyes.

The battle had been the easy part. Out there, it was instinct that kept a person alive. Her father had taught her that on one of their walks together years ago, though she hadn't learned the truth of the statement until today. Would he have been proud? She still couldn't imagine what fell creature could have slain the mountain of a man she'd known as Father. She still didn't know how she was supposed to be acting. Roy had told her, _"It's okay. You can cry in front of me. I won't think any less of you, you know. Today has... probably been the worst day of your life, hasn't it? I'll be right here, so don't you worry." _

He had been right. Today was the worst day of her life. She had never smelled what happened when a person used fire magic on a human target. She was ashamed to think of another life as a _target, _but that was what it had come to. Instinct; dodge; burn; smoke. She had been in the most hellish test, a castle full of moving targets that had the faces of men she had once trusted more than anything. It seemed like some sort of divine punishment for her naivety, but nobody blamed her, somehow; nobody called her out on her bad decisions. Despite that, she knew things had happened this way because of her own faults, and she would learn from the mistakes she had made in the weeks leading up to the siege. None of this would happen again.

She hadn't cried for more than ten minutes when she'd learned of her father's death. Roy had ushered her back into one of the corridors that _wasn't_ heaped with dead bodies, so that their men wouldn't see her crying. He was always doing his best to look out for her with things like that, even back when they had studied together. It was his nature.

The exhaustion from the battle, the overwhelming news, the happiness at Roy's arrival, the horror of slaughtering her own men – it all had come down on her as she had remained there in that hallway, choking and sobbing into Roy's shoulder while he just _kept talking,_ whispering things she couldn't remember now. It had been nice, in a way. She had always wanted an excuse to do something like lean on his shoulder, but now that she had paid the price, it hadn't felt nearly as peaceful as she had dreamed it would. There was still a lingering sense of embarrassment from losing her composure that badly, but he would never hold something like that against her – at least not as a friend.

The door was slightly ajar. She had been gazing at the fire in the hearth for some time. It was too far away for her to feel any warmth, but she had no need of it. Her palms had been sweating for hours now; her nerves were working double time, and they would be until she got a chance to see him again. She wanted nothing more than to remove her mantle and lean on one of the ever-cool stone walls to cool down a little. That would be most unladylike, though, so she remained in her formal attire, a beacon for the soldiers who shambled up to the doorway with news for her to pass on.

The last death count she'd given to Marcus was over five hundred. She idly wondered how many of those bodies had scorch marks on them, but didn't really think to ask. The answer probably wasn't anything she wanted to hear, anyway.

Movement from within the room caught her eye before she could think on that any longer. She had hoped to see him finally, but it was only Guinevere. Princess Guinevere, rather. Lilina couldn't help but envy the woman. They locked eyes for a moment just then, and Guinevere smiled softly, serenely, perfectly.

"You must be worried sick. Have you eaten?"

"N-no ma'am. I don't think I could right now." Lilina looked down at the ground. Of course everyone would pity her right now. She hated it.

"I would ask you to relax, but I know the bond you share with General Roy is too strong to let you do such a thing. Please continue to support him by doing your best out here. As soon as his household knights return from the, erm, cleanup, I'm sure you can retire."

With that said, Guinevere glided down the hallway, not looking back. Lilina allowed herself a moment of weakness and stomped the hard stone floor with one foot. The least the woman could have done was tell her what was going on in there! Hours had passed, and she was growing more and more nauseous as midnight approached. Only Sir Marcus, Miss Cecilia, Princess Guinevere, and two people whose faces she didn't yet know had been allowed in or out of the room. Sir Marcus occasionally came out to check on the death toll, but his expression was completely unreadable, and all he would do was tell her the same thing over and over again. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that, M'lady."

Lilina was terrified. That was another feeling that hadn't left her since her breakdown after the battle. She had just calmed down when Roy had been whisked away by Sir Lance, and that had led to the confrontation in the courtyard. Everything that had happened thereafter was a blur. A Bernese general had landed with dozens of his men, while hundreds more circled the castle from the skies. The shrieks of wyverns had echoed off the buildings, ringing in her ears like a warning of impending death.

General Nacien had been the man's name. He was a slimy, grotesque man, all bones and muscle hidden under that terrifying armor. He had towered over Roy, laughing as he issued his demand. He had wanted Roy to give up Ostia.

Roy had refused. Nacien had then threatened to take Ostia by force. The Bernese would have easily won if it had come to battle; the Lycian soldiers were all tired from a long day of slaying their own people and subsequently dragging the bodies out of the castle. Wyverns were terrifying creatures, all hard scales and sharp spines and wings. There had been only one possible outcome if the two sides were to clash, but Roy had fought even those odds.

"_Let us duel."_

Every man or woman who had heard him speak had drawn in air and held their breath. Bold words, coming from a boy who had only been fighting for two months at best, compared to the ten or more years of his senior. Or course, that had made Nacien laugh even harder. At that point, Roy had been insulted in front of two armies, and yet he had stood determined, frowning up at the man who was threatening to undo everything he had done to restore peace to Ostia.

"Tell me, boy, where did you obtain that reckless sense of honor?" Even Nacien's voice was slimy, Lilina had thought. Everything about him had repulsed her to the point that she could hardly dare to look at him.

"I suppose the recklessness was taught to me by Lord Hector during my studies here, sir. The honor, my lord father. Both of them are great men."

"Don't you mean '_was' _in the case of that Hector oaf? Last I checked, his body lay cold upon the floor of Castle Araphen, child, as yours will lay here if you want to continue this folly."

She had seen it. Something inside Roy had snapped just then, and she couldn't say for certain that it hadn't happened to her, too. Her father had been a great man – perhaps not the most cunning, but he had worked hard and had a great heart. To hear Nacien insult him with no fear of retribution...

"Sir, draw your sword. I will not have my men fight a meaningless battle. Not tonight." Roy had changed into a different person then, from his expression to his voice. He was no longer a clumsy, kindhearted boy. No, he was a man now – a man who had watched one of his heroes die in his arms, a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders and no way to save it from crashing down. She had realized, then, what he planned to do. There was no way for Roy to cede Ostia to this man without bloodshed and any shred of dignity. If he fought, though, with the realm as the stakes, Nacien would get what he came for without any more Lycian blood being spilled, save for his own. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives in exchange for one; a life of oppression, but a life nonetheless. Roy would forever be known as the man who lost Lycia.

Lilina had struggled to get closer, to stop this nonsense from happening, but a strong hand on each of her shoulders held her back. Bors and Barth, two of her father's men, had looked down upon her with the same expression she must have been wearing. "Do not interfere," Sir Barth had said quietly. "He knows what he's doing."

"I can't watch him become a martyr!" she had cried.

Roy had turned then, hearing her voice in the crowd. He couldn't find her, but he'd looked apologetic all the same. His lips had moved, as if he were whispering something, but a sudden roar from the crowd drowned out the sound of his words.

Lilina crossed her arms over her stomach as she remembered the feeling of watching Nacien's sword flash in the evening light. Everything had been gray-violet and orange until a spray of deep red stained the paving stones below Roy's feet.

"Never turn your back on an enemy, foolish child." Nacien's laughter had rung out louder than the cries of the angry Lycian mob that stood before him.

Roy had sunk to his knees for just a moment, obviously biting back his pain. After but a moment, he had stood again, quelling the uproar, and turned to face Nacien. "I apologize." His voice had carried across the courtyard, a calming contrast to the ruckus of the wyverns above. "I thought you to be an honorable man. Who knew that one of Bern's most feared generals would strike a man in the back?"

Roy's cape had nearly been torn in half by Nacien's blade. His wound was clearly deep from the amount of blood that had run down to stain his coattails, but small compared to what it could have been; his armor had taken the brunt of the attack. Regardless, he held himself upright as Nacien spat on the ground before him.

"Honor does not win battles, boy. This is a lesson you will soon learn."

Everything was lightning then, two swords screeching at each other just as loudly as the masses in the sky. Roy was more than outclassed, but he was smart enough to stay on the defensive instead of charging at his opponent. Lilina hadn't been able to tear her eyes away as she watched the only person she could honestly call her friend knock back blow after blow.

Nacien had quickly wore down Roy's resilience. His swordplay was rapid, precise. After several minutes of repetition, it was painfully obvious that he had been toying with Roy the whole time, putting on a show. Perhaps he had some sort of twisted sense of honor, himself, and didn't want to be known as the man who killed an unskilled child with but one of those precise sword movements. Even that "honor" hadn't lasted long, though. The real assault lasted only seconds. The two of them had locked swords; all it took was a shove from Nacien to send Roy stumbling to the side. Stab, hold. There was a quiet _tink _as the tip of Roy's sword met the stone below.

"Do you yield?" Nacien had teased.

"No, I do not." Roy's fist had clenched around the grip of his sword. Lilina had already known that if he were to drop it, it would constitute a loss. He had started to visibly sway, though, standing there with a sword embedded in his side.

"Spare me your noble gestures. You will not win."

Roy's free hand had touched his opponent's blade. His eyes had widened; his jaw had clenched in pain. The wound would not be fatal if he were to give up, but that was not an option. He had shuddered; his grip had loosened.

"General Nacien!" A voice had rung out from the skies. Some sort of miracle had taken place, for the soldier reported seeing thousands of troops moving in from the north without waiting for permission to speak. It had shaken Nacien very visibly to hear that Etruria had allied itself with Lycia. It wouldn't do to murder the general of one of their armies, then, would it?

"Damn it all. We count this as a draw."

"Y-yes."

Nacien had withdrawn his sword and mounted his wyvern with amazing haste. Things had blurred after that, and here Lilina stood, waiting for word on Roy's condition. He was nowhere near death; that much she knew. He had lost a considerable amount of blood during his duel, though, and she couldn't bear to think of how he was faring right now. She had something important to tell him, and he needed to hear it before dawn. Merlinus had asked her to tell him this information herself for whatever reason, and she would carry out this mission no matter how long she had to wait. This was the least she could do.

Another soldier approached before too much time had passed. _Six hundred and twenty-two._ Some of them had been among Ostia's finest. Fighting amongst themselves had weakened their people as a whole, and that, in turn, lessened their chances of victory in the future. She didn't know why they had chosen that path; were most people so content with living in fear with a crazed murderer as their king? Not that she would be any better, being a murderer herself. The very thought of it was enough to bring the memory of that smell back, and she had to sit down to calm herself.

"Lady Lilina, are you all right?"

It would seem Guinevere was back. Lilina looked up at her and nodded, knowing full well how pathetic and foolish she must look right then. But Guinevere didn't mock her or turn away; she slowly placed a plate of pastries on the floor before seating herself at the younger girl's side.

"Forgive me, but you're very pale. I thought you might need these."

Lilina had to swallow to keep from getting sick at the sight of food, but once the smell reached her, she realized that she was, indeed, _starving_. "Thank you very much," she said before starting on one of the treats. She and the Princess of Bern sat in silence as they shared the sweet desserts over the course of the next few minutes. Somehow, the lack of talk was neither comfortable nor awkward.

Once the pastries had all vanished, Lilina noted with some disdain that her fingers were sticky. Without thinking about it, she made to lick the remnants of glaze off of her fingers – until she remembered who she was sitting with. Much to her surprise, a side glance revealed that Guinevere was doing the _exact same thing, _until she turned as well. They sat there, both with fingers in their mouths, gazes locked. Guinevere was the first one to laugh, but Lilina soon joined her, leaning back against the wall without any care for her posture or anything of the sort.

"Look at us," Guinevere managed to say between giggles. "A couple of right ladies! I pity our future husbands!"

The mention of husbands made Lilina's stomach turn again. Of course, that could have been the effect of eating for the first time in more than a day, but she didn't care to weigh that option. "I agree."

Guinevere's smile waned ever-so-slightly. "To tell the truth, I passed on breakfast this morning. I was much too worried about the outcome of today's battles. To think back on it, it was a selfish choice... but I succumb to emotion easily."

Lilina was surprised to hear her admit guilt so freely. "I don't think it was selfish at all."

"But it was. Here General Roy is, doing all he can to help everyone, and I endangered myself because _I didn't feel like doing something._ It is my duty to take care of myself until this ordeal is over, just as you must take care of yourself."

"Please don't chide me." The words slipped out before Lilina could stop them. There was no denying it now – she was unbearably jealous of the elegant woman. Did she really need to admit guilt when there was no need to, just to make herself indebted to Roy even more? But that didn't excuse her own rudeness. She dared not look at the princess at her side, dare she die of embarrassment. "I'm sorry! I mean, I understand completely, it's just..."

"You may speak freely. Don't worry." If Guinevere had been surprised or offended by the comment, she hid it well. "You have been through more than I have... And I suppose there was no time for you to eat after the castle was won and General Nacien arrived. I apologize if I've offended you. I only meant to say that General Roy cares about you so much; I would hate to see him suffer if anything were to happen to you."

That surprised Lilina more than a little. "R-Roy cares about everyone," she said quietly. "He would put his life on the line for a complete stranger."

"Of course he would. But I must admit, I'm more than jealous of you, Lady Lilina. To have such a good friend is... It's a wonderful thing."

"I think he thinks of you as a friend, too. You have been traveling companions through such hardships."

Guinevere shook her head slowly. "We are friendly, yes, but we've only known each other for this short time. I can not speak so freely with him. You, though – you have been friends with him for years. He really, truly knows you, does he not? He knows what to say to cheer you up."

That was true. "Yeah... He tries his best, and while he might not always say the right thing, when the words come from him I know he means the best."

"Now that you mention it, he does sometimes say things that are hard not to laugh at," Guinevere noted.

"Oh, I know. He tries so hard to live up to Un- err, Lord Eliwood's reputation. He tries to be gallant and it just..."

"It's endearing."

"That's a good, polite word for it." Lilina was having a hard time not laughing now. "Everything he says is from the heart, at least. His words are just... _misguided_ sometimes."

"That's another good word! You're good at this, too."

"I have to be, don't I?"

"You have a point." Guinevere tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh. Even slumped back like that, she managed to look beautiful and elegant. It wasn't fair. "Can I tell you a secret, Lady Lilina?"

"I-I suppose so. If you want to."

"General Roy didn't want you to come into the room because he didn't want you to see him injured like that. He doesn't want you to worry... but I also think he doesn't want to look weak in front of you."

Lilina felt heat rise to her face. "W-well aren't all boys like that?"

"I don't really know. The only boy I was ever close to was my brother. He had his chivalrous moments, but he admitted being afraid to me on more than one occasion."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You don't have to apologize. What has happened has happened, and it's not right. That's why I'm relying on General Roy, because I'm not strong enough to do anything on my own. I'm weak and afraid."

"You aren't weak! You're one of the strongest people I've ever heard of or met. Not many people could handle facing their own people like you are!"

"Like you had to today?" Guinevere's voice was most certainly sad now. "Lady Lilina, you do not give yourself enough credit. You are very strong, and General Roy will be depending on you a lot in the future. As will I."

Lilina didn't really know what to say.

"Anyway, I believe it's time for me to find somewhere to sleep. I just wanted to say... thank you for supporting everyone, especially General Roy. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you as soon as he's able to sit up on his own."

"I-is that... the only reason I can't go in?"

"I wish I could say no." Guinevere stood and stretched a bit, letting out the most unladylike yawn Lilina had ever borne witness to. After lowering her arms, she looked down at Lilina once more and winked, an unreadable smile on her face. "I wish you could see him, though. He's said the strangest things since General Cecilia gave him that medicine."

That made her giggle a bit. "Oh, I can imagine. He doesn't react well to sedation."

"I've noticed. All he could do was talk about a certain someone after it set in. He just would not stop asking about her."

With another wink, she set off down the hallway, the beautiful Princess of Bern. _An elegant gossip_, Lilina decided. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Once Guinevere was out of sight, she focused her gaze on the doorway once more, ready to play the waiting game again. If Roy wanted her to wait, she would wait as long as it took. And, as much as she wanted to scold him for making her do so, she would keep Guinevere's secret to herself. After all, that's what friends did, right? They shared pastries and talked very, very late at night and kept secrets for each other.

_If only she had taken the plate back with her. Honestly.  
_


End file.
